All language subtitles for Photographing Africa BBC 1080p HDTV x265 AAC MVGroup Forum EN Sub

This programme contains scenes which
some viewers may find upsetting.

Africa is home
to one billion people.

TRAIN HORN

This vast continent is
a melee of cultures and identities.

For the past century,

there's been a mass human
migration in Sub-Saharan Africa

as families leave their rural
way of life behind

and establish homes in towns
and cities.

Growing up in the Sudan

and newly-independent Kenya,

I've watched this movement
of people.

I've been photographing here
since the early 1970s.

Recording the changing face of
Africa has always been my passion,

and it's the focus
of my photography.

Travelling out to remote parts
of the continent,

I'm able to record what
still exists of the old,

and also photograph
what's new and emerging.

Despite the city's powerful
magnetic draw, surprisingly,

most of Africa's billion people
do still live out on the land.

It's a fascinating time because,
within the next ten years,

that balance will tip

and the majority of Africans
will become town and city dwellers.

If I could find the same
rural people

I photographed two or three decades
ago, I think they'd give me

a vivid insight into Africa's
story of change.

This wild land of North Kenya is
one of my favourite places on Earth,

and it's home to a semi-nomadic
group called the Samburu.

Here, in 1984,

I took a series of portraits
of five young Samburu women.

Because of their nomadic ways,

who knows where those women
might be today,

or even whether any
of them will still be alive?

But I would like to try
and track them down,

and for that I'll need
the help of an old friend.

Harry!

How are you? Fine, thanks, fine.

Well, we've come all this way
to talk to you about a plan.

We have a plan.

The young women whose portraits
I'd taken in 1984

were all from traditional Samburu
clans, living with livestock.

30 years on,
I want to know what's become of them

and if Kibiriti will help me
find them again.

Is that something that you
could come with us?

Yes, I will come with you.
Yeah? Excellent.

Do you need to get yourself
ready or anything?

I think I can just put
a trouser on. OK.

We found you without trousers,
without anything!

I am very happy to see you again.

So nice, so good.

Were you surprised to see me?
Yes, yes. I just saw the car.

I was standing here,
I recognised you. Really?

You thought, "Who's that?" Harry.

These five women.
What's your instinct?

How do we start to look for them
and find them?

I think the way to start
looking for these girls is to search

out from the old names, the one
they had before. The family names?

Their original family names?
The original family name.

Do you think they will still be
living traditional lives?

I think some might be,
because they never change.

If married by the townspeople...

They will be different there.
They will change.

Or if they have been married
at the town, at the time, change.

So people in the cities change
faster? Yeah.

It will be a long journey to go

and look for them because...

HE SPEAKS IN DIALECT

Looking for a needle in a haystack.

Is that right? Yes.

Samburu Land covers
an area of 8,000 square miles.

That's a region the size of Wales.

So I don't doubt Kibiriti
when he tells me

that our search for the five
women will be no small task.

'Drought is a recurrent
part of Africa's climate.

'It's not a rarity here

'and the Samburu have adapted
their lifestyles to deal with it.

'Since 1984, there have been least
three cataclysmic droughts in which

'most Samburu lost virtually
all their livestock

'and many people died.'

'My fear, I suppose, would be

'to find out that the woman
in the photographs have suffered.'

Kibiriti suggested that we return
to the place I took the photographs

and speak to his friend, Douglas.

He thought Douglas might know the
family names of some of the women.

Do you recognise any of these girls?

THEY DISCUSS

30 years is a long time,
it's a lifetime.

Of course. But that's
the story of all societies now.

Of course.

Douglas spread the word that we were
searching for the five women,

though he, like Kibiriti, warned me
it wasn't going to be easy.

Douglas explained that women

generally marry into
a different clan,

and, once they've
taken on their husband's name

and moved away to live with his
family, they'd be hard to trace.

But what if they hadn't married,
I asked.

Douglas just laughed

and said that wasn't an option
in the Samburu girls' life.

The Samburu tribe are divided
into nine clans.

Outside of towns,
they, for the most part,

continue to live steeped
in their tribal tradition.

When I arrive at a community,

if people are amenable to
having their portrait made,

I put up a studio tent.

WHISPERS: Fantastic.

It's like a Victorian
studio portrait.

He wouldn't need one of those neck
braces to keep him still.

Absolutely like a statue.

Fantastic.

You were just as still as a rock.

HE EXCLAIMS

Woo!

I've just had my first
positive lead.

One of the Samburu women has been
recognised by a relative.

He believes Ndito Lekisoli
is now married to his brother

and that she's living on
this hillside.

I'll be gobsmacked if she's
actually here.

That's her in the yellow.
No! Ndito?

No.

No, she hasn't spotted us yet.

Here we are. Yes. Yes.

Ndito!

Her oldest child is 24.
She's a grandmother many times over.

So exactly six years after
I took the picture,

Ndito got married
and started having children.

That's great.

It's incredible.

Amazing to find her 30 years on.

What was the happiest
time of Ndito's life?

What really surprised me
about photographing Ndito

and finding her is that,
in 30 years,

she's only moved two miles,

settled down and had a family.

So the whole pattern of
the Samburu nomadic group

has completely changed
over 30 years.

They're no longer travelling great
distances in search for pasture.

I asked Ndito, what's the furthest
away place she'd been in her life?

She told me it was when she went
on a shopping trip to Kasima.

That's a small town 12 miles
from where she lives.

It's interesting to me that

it was a town, as opposed to some
wild, far off place.

Small towns certainly are an
irresistible allure all over Africa.

They're vital to people's
livelihoods as marketplaces,

where they can buy
and sell livestock and produce.

It's fantastic. A lovely pot of tea.

It's the Serial Hotel.

A hotel in this part of the world
isn't a place where you stay.

It's a place where you eat.
It's a restaurant.

Oh, hello. Is this your hotel? Yeah.

Can I take a picture of you
and the mural? Thank you.

I like your T-shirt.

Excellent. Thank you, sir. What is
your speciality? What do you serve?

I just sell rice, beans and potatoes,

about 50 shillings for a plate.

Cup of tea, 20 shillings per cup.

20 shillings for a cup of tea?

Yes. That's good value.

That's about 20p a cup. That's
very good value. Yeah. Excellent.

Can I have a cup of tea?
Yeah, come on.

Thank you, thank you.

Oh, it's very sweet.
It's already got the sugar in it.

It's very sweet. Delicious.

The people who travel into these
small market towns

to sell their produce or buy goods
often come from a place

way out in the land,
a place they still call home.

But Samburu territory is
surrounded by other tribal groups.

There are more people on the land
than there once were,

so there's greater conflict
over grazing and water.

Cattle can never be more than half
a day's walk from drinking water.

In the remote parts of northern
Kenya, traditional singing wells

are still very much in use.

THEY ALL SING

THEY DISCUSS

My search for the four remaining
women continues,

and I've just met someone who thinks
they know Mary Lesupai.

If it really is her, she'll be
living near a place called Baua,

with a married name
of Mary Lekaltia.

I've been given directions

and driven out to the open flatlands
to speak to the community elders.

We have a girl here.
I have a mystery.

There's a girl here called
Mary Lesupai.

This picture
of Mary was taken in 1984.

You do? Chief Paul, you know
everybody! How old is she now?

Yeah. Let's go,
let's go and meet her.

Yeah, we go back?

Oh, yes, yes OK.
Let's go and try there.

Does she recognise this?
Is it her? What does she say?

Does she recognise herself?

Chief Paul, what was her
name before she was married?

So this is the right name.

She is the one, but she doesn't...

Does she recognise it?

It is her.

Is it really?
It's definitely her. It is her.

PRINTER BEEPS

Why isn't it working?

Chief Paul, how many children
does Mary now have?

Eight children. Any grandchildren?

Do any of Mary's boys have jobs
in the city,

or do they all work with cattle?

They're all cattlemen.

PRINTER BEEPS

"Remove the paper jam and press
the resume button on the printer,

"reprint the page
you were printing."

PRINTER BEEPS

What do you think of that?

'I couldn't understand at first why

'Mary found it so hard
to identify herself.

'I suppose I took it for granted
that most of us grow up

'surrounded by family photographs
and pictures of our childhood,

'images that remind
ourselves of how we looked

'and reinforce our self-identity.'

Mary, your picture.

Incredibly concentrated look
that Mary has,

looking back 30 years,

seems to be bringing back
very deep memories.

'Mary still lives with cattle,
but like Ndito,

'she too now lives in a permanent
homestead with her family.

'Time on the move with her
herds is now largely

'a thing of the past
for the Samburu.

'Our continued search led us

'out to the furthest
reaches of Kenya's northern deserts.

'But we still had no news
of the other three Samburu women.

'Across the rest of Africa,
a good number of pastoralist tribes

'continue to move with their herds
in constant search of grazing.

'Some of these pastoralist groups
still live very traditional

'lives and seem to be almost immune
to the city's strong magnetic pull.

'To find these people today,

'I have to head much further
out into the heart of Africa.

'One group I've been keen to
photograph for a very long

'time is the Mundari.

'But their newly-independent
country of South Sudan has been

'blighted by civil war
and turmoil for over 30 years.

'There's no knowing what
kind of reception I'll get from a

'people whose entire lives have been
dominated by bloodshed and war.'

Look at this.

'The camps where the Mundari
keep their herds in amongst

'the Nile tributaries are often
very remote

'and totally inaccessible to
vehicles.'

Good morning.

Madak? Madan. Madan.

Madan.

Madan. Hey! Hello.

Madan.

Madan.

Salaam.

Wow! This is a great camp!

Fantastic!

Salaam. Madan.

Madan.

Ah, madan. So, where is the head
man, Clement? Where is the head man?

SPEAKS IN LOCAL LANGUAGE

This is the head man?

Ah, excellent. Madan.

How are you?

What's his name, Clement?

SPEAKS IN LOCAL LANGUAGE

He's called Loku. Loku.

Loku.

Clement, can you ask Loku

if we can do some
photography in his camp today?

How does he feel about that?

SPEAKS LOCAL LANGUAGE

How does he feel about that?

They're welcoming it?

But, Clement, he doesn't seem very
happy. Is he happy?

Which is his camp? This one.

From here to there.
From here to there.

And the other leader is down there?
Yes.

Shall we start at this end?

So just make sure that
we're in his camp.

Thank you, thank you.

OK.

Very good.

Excuse me.

Thank you.

Thank you very much. That's good.
Thank you.

It's inside there, but I have
to take it back to process

it in the laboratory in England
and then it comes out.

HE TRANSLATES

Not sure
whether he understood that one.

Have a look.

Look.

Can you see? Beautiful?

Huh?

OK, one second.

I love your hat.

Fantastic hat!

How many cattle do they have?

Wow! Really? For a bride?

Yes.

How does...
How do you make the hair like that?

And when the Dinka come to raid
the cattle, what do they use?

Do they use spears or clubs?
How do they defend the cattle?

LAUGHTER

That's fantastic. Look at that.
Wow!

And do they have
lots of spears here? Yes.

Yeah.

'During the dry season,
young Mundari men

'and women leave their villages
and take their herds

'down to the flood plains around
the Nile, in search of pasture.

'They spend all day out grazing,
but before nightfall,

'the animals return to
camps for protection.'

An absolutely incredibly
magical moment.

All the cattle coming back at dusk.

And they come in,
there's about 1,000 in this camp,

and each cow turns to the same peg
it was the night before.

In fact, where it always goes. They
know exactly where they belong.

It's just, they're creatures
of habit.

The Mundari have this incredible
bond with their cattle. They just...

I mean, they're treated like family.
They ARE family.

What's happening is that the girls
just wait in the little circle

of pegs, waiting for the particular
cows to come back

and then they just put a noose round
their neck, peg them to the ground.

And that's that.

Moored for the night.

It's fantastic.
Incredible sense of order about it.

Like parking cars.
Absolutely incredible.

'Back in the Mundari villages,
the elders,

'as well as the mothers
and small children,

'are waiting for the rains to
arrive, so they can begin planting.'

25 cows for his wife?

I'm sorry?

They're still demanding more?
How long ago did he get married?

30 years and he still
is in debt for his wife?

That's a long time to be
paying for your wife.

So this is for shooting people?

They're nasty-looking arrows.
Has he shot a person with this?

It's a secret.
A secret, how many people...

Um... Can we have his permission
to camp tonight here?

Just tonight.
We'll leave in the morning.

He says you go to his home.

It's incredibly kind of this
family just to let me

pitch a tent in their compound.

Can't imagine in England if you
walked into somebody's back yard

and said, "Can I pitch my tent?"
you'd get quite such a warm welcome.

'Rain has finally brought
relief for the Mundari.

'But within a few days,
roads will be impassable

'and bridges washed away.

'Mundari land will remain cut off
and inaccessible for months.

'Such isolation from outside
influence has certainly

'played its part in retaining
Mundari culture.

'But there are not many
parts of Africa where the powerful

'lure of city life is not felt.

'The whole continent is on the move.

'All about,
I see people rooted in their past,

'yet propelled forward
towards an urban future.

'Everyone in the city is here
to earn their living.

'Hand-painted signs advertise
what's for sale.

'These shop front murals began
life by being a very clear

'and effective way to communicate
across a vast population

'composed of so many different
tribal languages.

'The signs of goods and services
for sale promise a new and exciting

'life to many rural people
coming in from the countryside.'

I've done restaurants, butchers,

salons, shops.

Is it a satisfying job? It is really
satisfying, but really annoying.

HE LAUGHS

They want it to be this way...
I want it to be like a brown face...

I want it to be yellow face!

So this man,
is he happy with this one?

He is so happy,
but maybe 95% happy.

The 5%, like,
"Please, can you come tomorrow

"and fix the eyes a little bit?"

'The city certainly is
the place to come and make money.

'But just 100 miles from this
densely packed metropolis,

'there's a group of people who
resist the draw of the city

'and for whom money has no
value or use at all.

'The Hadzabe are one of the very few
African groups who still

'survive entirely as
hunter-gatherers.

'They, like pastoralists and nomads,
cling resolutely to a traditional

'way of life, while the rest
of Africa changes all about them.

'The Hadzabe are masters of survival
in this harsh land of theirs.

'They find drinking water
high in baobab.

'A pool of rainwater has collected,
way up in the hollow of the tree.

'Hadzabe hunting weapons have
changed little with time.

'Their bows and arrow shafts are
made from a sturdy local tree.

'Their feather flights are taken
from hawk and guinea fowl wings.

'And their arrowheads are tipped

'with a poison brewed
from a toxic plant.'

'Golfani's band of hunters have
no means of storage.

'They rely entirely on what can be
harvested in a single day.

'And they have no use for money,

'because their currency
is their skill as hunters.'

But across Africa,
only a few groups of people

still manage to survive
as hunter-gatherers.

The Batwa pygmies of
the East African forest

have been, for the most part,
squeezed off their land,

and are now living in refuge
on the edges of small towns.

The Khoisan bushmen of the
Kalahari are equally threatened.

The Waata of Tsavo, who
once lived by hunting elephants,

have long been forced
to give up hunting.

The Hadzabe, meanwhile,
cling to a tradition

that's now virtually
extinct across the continent.

'I'd photographed Onka'a and his
band of hunters on a previous visit.

'I now had their portraits
for them.'

Golfani's hunters are preparing
for a baboon hunt, tomorrow at dawn.

Baboons are highly-prized
by the Hadzabe,

and they're exceptionally
difficult to hunt.

A young man, in order to
demonstrate his skill as a hunter

and prove that he will be capable
of supporting a wife and family,

must shoot at least five baboons.

BABOON BARKS

BIRD CAWS

BANG!

SQUEALING

SHOUTING

It's the whole story of the hunt.

A whole re-enactment of the hunt
that he has just performed.

It's a huge, huge,
alpha male baboon.

That is food for the whole group.

A baboon of this size is
a real cause for celebration.

Fewer and fewer groups of people
in our world remain able
to practise their traditional ways.

It may be just a matter of time
before the Hadzabe too

will be forced to move towards
a homogenised, urban society.

The anthropologist Margaret Mead
warned that one day,

all human experience might be
reduced finally to an amorphous,
commercialised culture.

Her worst nightmare was that
we would wake up one morning

and not even remember
what we had lost.

'Back in northern Kenya,

'Kibiriti and I discovered
sad news about Elisa,

'who was one of the five
young Samburu women

'I had photographed in 1984.

'Elisa had contracted HIV
and died of AIDS in the year 2000.'

Generations of African children
have lost their parents to AIDS.

The statistics for the disease

in Sub-Saharan Africa tell
a terrifying story.

On average, 169 people have died
every hour from AIDS

for the last 15 years.

The orphans are often left to be
raised by their grandparents.

All over Samburu Land, clans are
gathering to perform a rare ceremony

that only occurs once
every 10 or so years.

It is a vitally important
rite of passage

in a Samburu man's life.

It marks the point that a
Moran, a man of warrior age,

is initiated to become
a junior elder.

This ceremony only takes place
once a decade,

because it is the moment
each generation moves on.

'All the young men together,
as a collective group.'

Very good. Well done.

'The initiation takes place
in a large, specially built corral.'

Each of the Morans is staying
by their house at the moment.

Yes, I see. Standing by.

I don't know which one of these
cows is for the chop,

but each of the 68 houses around
the perimeter has a young man
who is being initiated today.

Each one has to sacrifice
an animal.

HORN BLOWS

'That's the signal
everyone's been waiting for.

'It's a momentous
occasion for the Morans.

'It's their last day as warriors.

'A crucial turning point
in their lives.'

It's all kicking off now.

They're starting to get the cattle
out and moved to the area

where they're going
to slaughter them.

'The psychological pressure
of the moment is deeply felt
by the initiates.

'Some are so overwhelmed
with emotion,

'they collapse in violent seizures,
known by the Samburu as enduka.'

The Samburu name for this ceremony

translates as "the death of many
cattle in one place".

No part of the sacrificed animals
will go to waste.

Each cow's dewlap is carefully
skinned, the jugular pierced,

and the initiates drink fresh blood.

'This is vitally important
in the way that it reinforces

'the initiates' bonds and commitment
to their clan and group.

'But today, many Samburu manage
to balance their traditional roots

'with an entirely different,
contemporary African lifestyle.

'I was fascinated to meet
one of the initiates

'who has a full-time job as an
officer in the Kenyan Air Force.'

Why is this ceremony
so important to you?

Being a warrior, a Moran?

You'll be allowed to marry?

And you will return
to your job in the Air Force? Yes.

'He may hold a hi tech city job,
but it is still crucial for him

'to join the rest of his
Samburu clan for the finale
of the ceremony.'

'The dance increases
in volume and intensity.

'Through its rhythm,
the dancers build themselves up

'into a trance-like
state of consciousness.

'As the tension mounts,
initiates start, once again,

'to break down under
the emotional strain.'

'While the initiate is carried off,
the dance continues.

'The dance is all-important
and it cannot be interrupted.'

'It is extraordinary to me
that these same dancers

'one moment are entirely immersed
in this timeless ritual,

'and the next,
they effortlessly navigate

'the modern 21st-century world.

'Many of these young men
are experienced internet users.

'Some have created
Facebook profiles.

'That in itself
may not be surprising.

'What interests me, though,
is that on their homepages,

'they have not posted images of
themselves as modern city dwellers.

'Instead, they are dressed in
full traditional tribal regalia.'

The duality of life here
cuts to the core of my passion

to photograph Africa as it moves
between the past and the present.

While the roots of so much
African culture have undergone
erosion and change,

this ceremony is conducted
in a traditional way
and with total conviction.

As I photograph this rite
of passage, I am very conscious
the world will be a decade older

by the time the ceremony
comes round again.

I can't help wondering if the
next generation of Samburu Morans

will experience this ceremony
with such authentic intensity.

Kibiriti has good news

about one final woman from
the portraits I'd taken.

Selina received word
someone was looking for her

and she crossed the mountain
to search us out.

She has carried a baby all the way
down that incredible mountain!

And the baby is still asleep!
That is amazing!

Oh, my God!

Hello.

HE GREETS HER IN HER OWN LANGUAGE

Are any of these her?

That's you? That is you!
Oh, that is beautiful.

She remembers.
She does, she remembers that.

That was 30 years ago,
that was in 1984.

How many children do you now have?

Seven children.
Is this your youngest child?
Oh, look, a little fella.

He is fast asleep. That is
fantastic. Look, he is snoring!

You can hear him snoring,
he is fast asleep.

Right now, the present day.

When she looks back,
was that a happy time?

She prefers the present to the past.

What about for the future, does
she feel positive about the future?

'Of the five women we searched for,
it was a sad blow to hear
Elisa had died.

'But managing to find three
of the women was far beyond
my expectations.

'Since photographing them as girls,
they had raised families.

'They were well,
and all three were grandmothers.

'I'm inspired by their resilience.

'The bedrock of Samburu culture
does appear to have survived

'the pressures of a changing Africa.

'What strikes me most was
the way each of the women preferred
to be living in the present,

'as opposed to looking back at their
past, or ahead to their future.

'That's a quality I value
and admire enormously.'

There is one girl
we were unable to trace.

Nakwan, we were told,
had moved to the city.

The details of her life and her
whereabouts remain a mystery.

One of the things I find totally
surprising is that two of those
women had travelled so little.

They were still within a few miles
of where I had photographed them,
30 years ago.

How do you explain that?

In Swahili, we say that...

HE SPEAKS IN SWAHILI

How do you say?

The fruit doesn't fall far from the
tree. It's the same in English!

Kibiriti...

THEY SAY THEIR GOODBYES